


A Promising Partnership

by BadHairDay



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9796334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadHairDay/pseuds/BadHairDay
Summary: Samuel runs into some trouble after dropping Corvo in the Flooded District. One of the Whaler's comes to his rescue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing
> 
>  
> 
> I didn’t really think Samuel could have gone in and out of the Flooded District without being spotted by the Whalers, and then this little brainchild emerged and I did my best to put it into words. Set in the Low Chaos/Clean Hands playthrough.

Samuel dropped Corvo into the Amaranth, hoping with all his might that the Lord Protector wouldn’t stir. Admiral Havelock’s gaze was piercing as he watched Samuel ferry Corvo’s body away from the Hound Pits Pub.

“I’m sorry Corvo.” Samuel murmured, nearly drowned out by the purr of the motor. His decision to halve the dosage of poison nagged at him. He worried that perhaps he should have done something else, been quicker on his feet, and saved Corvo from being poisoned altogether. The Wrenhaven almost seemed to reflect his inner turmoil, swaying and knocking the boat more than usual. The journey to the Flooded District was tense and uncomfortable, full of quiet apologies and hopeful glances. Samuel’s eyes flicked to Corvo’s unconscious form regularly. He hoped to spot even a hint of movement from the dark haired man, but so far there had been nothing.

Upon arriving at the district entrance, Samuel looked around for something to keep Corvo afloat. His eyes finally landed upon a rickety little boat. He transferred the Serkonian mans limp body as gently as he could, being careful of his head. He tied a spare length of rope to the wooden craft, pulling it through the floodgates alongside the Amaranth. The small hairs on the back of his neck prickled in warning and he quickly scanned his surroundings. Weepers were a bigger threat here. Several times he thought he caught flickers of movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head there was nothing there. Eventually he reached a point where the waterway began to narrow and he decided that it was a good spot to leave his companion. He pushed the small boat on ahead and hoped that the vessel, and the man inside it, would be alright.

He remained alert on his return journey, still scanning his surroundings periodically. He was almost halfway back to the gates when he ran into trouble. As he came around one of the buildings he heard a scuffling noise, followed quickly by a groan. He recognized it as a weeper, and hoped he was far enough from the shore that he wouldn’t be threatened. The boat rounded the corner and he saw not one weeper, but a group of them.

One of them threw itself forward, catching the lip of the craft and rocking it violently. Samuel shouted in alarm, reaching frantically into the bottom of his boat for something, anything to defend himself with. There was a sickening thwack, and the weeper let go of the Amaranth, a crossbow bolt sticking out of its eye. The others had been incited by the noise and commotion, and they rushed towards Samuel as well. In the span of a blink, two more had fallen to crossbow bolts, but it wasn’t enough. There were still six remaining. The closest one made a grab for him, catching his shirt sleeve and knocking him off balance. He landed in the bottom of the boat with a thud, the weeper falling on top of him. He raised his arms, trying to protect his face when suddenly the weight was gone. He looked up to see a stranger in a mask throw the body overboard before turning swiftly to fight the remaining plague victims. Samuel recovered from his shock, and finally managed to grab a hold of one of his spare oars. He swung it as hard as he could into the horde, catching two of them and knocking them into the water, where he shoved them away savagely.

A muffled cry caused him to turn back around. Three more of the weepers were dead, but the final one had managed to catch the stranger from behind, pushing him into the water. There was a sharp crack as the man’s head hit the side of the boat, and Samuel leapt into action. He brandished the oar like a club, viciously swiping at the weeper. The blow connected, and the weeper fell to the ground with a large wound on its temple.

Samuel dropped the oar and dove to the side of the boat, catching his rescuer's chest harness before he could sink too far below the water. He heaved the man into the Amaranth, tearing his mask off and checking to see if he was still breathing. Ragged coughs shook the man’s chest, and Samuel shifted him onto his side so he could spit out the water in his throat. He wore a belt with several pouches attached to it strapped across his chest. Another circled his waist. His dark overcoat was scuffed but the shirt underneath was clean, and his trousers and boots were splattered with dirt and river muck. Leather gloves protected his hands, and some sort of contraption was strapped to the inside of his left wrist. Samuel recognized it as a miniature crossbow, similar to the one Pietro had crafted for Corvo. 

The assassin sat up and met Samuel's eyes, looking as though he had never encountered anyone quite like him before. With his face exposed, Samuel took note of his features. Unkempt brown hair covered his ears. A strong, sharp jaw hinted at a stubborn nature, contradicted slightly by a soft mouth. His nose appeared to have been broken and reset several times, causing it to be slightly crooked, and wrinkles like crow’s feet lined his eyes. He was handsome in a rugged way, but it was his eyes that truly captured Samuel’s attention. They were a bright, clear amber color and they almost seemed to glow in the light reflecting off the water. They were currently narrowed in a puzzled frown as the man regarded him.

“Are you alright?” Samuel inquired, breaking the silence.

“Yes, I… Thank you.”

Samuel blinked. He could hear the barest trace of an accent in the other man's voice, but it was too faint to identify.

“I should be thanking _you_ ,” he stated. “I wouldn’t have made it out of that if not for you. I'm Samuel.”

The Whaler didn't answer, choosing instead to seat himself across from Samuel. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on, and Samuel couldn’t seem to stop his gaze from drifting over the younger man as they traveled. The assassin had noticed, and slid his eyes over the boatman in return. He was in good shape despite his age, with corded muscle peeking out from under his shirt sleeves as he guided the boat. His seated position had caused his pants to draw tight over his legs, hinting at the strength the sailor had retained from years of hard labor. Dragging his appreciative gaze back up, the Whaler met Samuel’s eyes, delighting in the flush spreading over his face. He smiled and the older man blushed harder and looked away.

The younger man initiated a conversation, and the rest of the journey was filled with friendly discussion and comfortable companionship, until they finally made it to the edge of the district. They had not encountered any more problems since the weepers; not even a river krust. Samuel stopped just before the gates to allow the assassin to disembark.

“Thank you again.” He said quietly, hesitating slightly before gently accelerating, drifting towards the gap in the floodgates.

The assassin smiled, pausing with his mask halfway to his face.

“Samuel,” he called, “My name is Oskar.”

Samuel beamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you spookalien and 5upernova for the encouraging comments! Here is the second chapter as requested. I hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

 

 

It had been six weeks since Empress Emily Kaldwin had been restored to power. Samuel had returned to work as a ferryman. He was too old to return to sea, but he could never truly leave it behind. He ran errands as often as he could, working labor and transport jobs, and had been making decent coin since the whole mess had blown over. He still had his shack set up at the Hound Pits, and would return there for his evenings. He had taken to recording himself more frequently on the audiograph he had repaired, documenting his role in the Loyalists and Corvo’s quest to rescue Emily.

Occasionally his mind drifted to Oskar. He wondered what had happened to him during Corvo’s escape from the Flooded District, but had never dared to ask the Lord Protector. Still, he hoped the younger man was alright, or at the very least alive.

 

* * *

 

 

Another month passed, and all thoughts of the assassin had disappeared. Once a cure for the plague had been found, Samuel’s workload had increased. Sokolov and Pietro hired him to transport small shipments of elixir, delivering to private buyers around the city. He had saved up enough money to make a few improvements to his shack, including a small lockbox that he used to house his audiograph cards and a few meager valuables.

After one particularly long day of work, he sat down inside the Hound Pits for a drink. He looked up as the barstool beside him was pulled out, and found himself meeting a familiar pair of eyes.

 “Oskar,” Samuel breathed, “you’re alive.”

“Hello Samuel.” The man said with a smile.

The two men chatted for a long time, discussing what had happened to each of them over the last several months. The assassin confessed that after Daud left Dunwall the Whalers had disbanded. Some travelled with their former master, while others used their skills to continue freelance work. For his part, Oskar had decided to leave that life behind. Things had changed after the Empress, and he regretted that they had taken the contract at all. He admitted that Corvo infiltrating their base had almost been a relief. Daud leaving gave him the perfect escape from the assassination business. For the last eight weeks he had been bouncing around Dunwall, collecting bounties and committing petty thievery to get by.

Samuel spoke of his work. He told Oskar of his continued employment as a ferryman, this time for goods instead of the Lord Protector, and his joy that young Emily had been restored to her rightful place. He felt sorry for her; she had been through too much for someone so young. He acknowledged his part in the downfall of the loyalists and his remaining friendship to Corvo despite his poisoning. Corvo had quickly forgiven him, but Samuel had vowed never to be wrapped up in such a conspiracy again.

Eventually their conversation came to a close, and Oskar asked if Samuel was interested in taking on a companion. The idea of good, honest work appealed to him.

Samuel paused. The assassin was easy to get along with and would be handy if anyone tried to interrupt a shipment. He agreed to consider it, and they made plans to meet again soon.

 

* * *

 

 

The following week saw Samuel back at the Hound Pits with Oskar. He had mulled over the younger man’s offer and was planning to accept.

“It’s not much,” he stated, “long days and heavy lifting, but it’s steady work.”

Oskar offered to start immediately.

After that, things brightened for the pair. They got along famously, telling jokes and swapping stories. Samuel no longer found himself longing to return to sea and Oskar once again felt like he had a purpose. It was really no surprise to either of them when their friendship expanded into something more. It was early one morning when they shared their first kiss. Samuel had been regaling the younger man with one of his adventures in the navy, gesticulating wildly and smiling fondly at the memories. Oskar leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Samuels, cutting him off mid speech. He had paused only momentarily, startled, before melting into it, cupping Oskar’s face in his hands softly.

They broke apart, both panting slightly, and Samuel slowly dropped his hands, a flush rising to his face and reddening his ears. When the job was completed they retired to Samuel’s shack together, trading kisses and soft touches before falling asleep on the lumpy mattress. The addition of subtle affectionate gestures and stolen kisses to their usual routine was seamless and natural.

Over the next several weeks the two men picked up a few more contracts, and the small boost in their collective income allowed them a small number of modest luxuries. The mattress in the shack had been replaced with a larger one, allowing them to bunk together comfortably. A stack of new audiograph cards had been stored in the lockbox alongside their savings. Oskar had begun contributing to Samuel’s audiograph collection, adding his voice to some of the recordings. They documented their days together, sharing jokes and accounts of their shipments. Those cards went into a separate pile.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until a month after their first kiss that they took the next step in their relationship. The day had started out typically. They were tasked with carrying a shipment of Elixir to Clavering Boulevard, and were in the midst of unloading the cargo when they were set upon by thugs. A beefy man grabbed Samuel, yanking him off balance and holding him at knife point. Oskar saw red. He blinked behind the man, snapping his neck in a heartbeat, before turning on the rest. They had stood shocked when their leader fell, but recovered quickly, shouting their rage and running at Oskar. He fought viciously, dispatching them one by one with cold precision. Samuel jumped up, ready to step into the fray, but it was over before he got the chance. Once the last body hit the ground Oskar turned and rushed to Samuel’s side, frantically checking him for injuries.

“I’m alright.” Samuel whispered, clasping Oskar’s hands.

Oskar looked up sharply, moving to capture Samuel’s lips, pouring everything he felt for the older man into the kiss. Hands clutched at his collar before roaming across his back and finally sliding up into his hair. His own fell wrapped around Samuel’s waist, crushing them together. Panting, they parted, leaning their foreheads together. Oskar dragged his palms over Samuel’s chest, stopping over his heart as though to confirm it was still beating, before reaching up to cup his face. He leaned in and kissed the boatman again, lingering fear making his kiss desperate. It was several long minutes before they finally stepped apart.

They delivered their shipment as quickly as they could, Oskar’s eyes scanning their surroundings for threats periodically. He stuck close to the grey haired man’s side until they reached the boat, assessing the area once more before boarding. He grasped Samuel’s hand the moment the Amaranth docked at the Hound Pits, tugging the man towards their shack. Once inside, he pulled the other man into a fierce hug. Samuel returned it, clinging to him. Eventually the anxiety lifted, replaced by soft caresses and gentle touches. Samuel pulled the assassin into a kiss, slow and deep.

Soon they had divested each other of their jackets and shirts, hands exploring and mouths following. Oskar traced Samuel’s scars with fingers and tongue, planting soft kisses on each one before working his way back up to his lips. Gasping, Samuel pushed him backwards onto the mattress. The rest of their clothes fell away and they tangled together, slowly taking each other apart with tender touches and loving words.

The next morning found them warm and happy, wrapped in each other’s arms. Samuel woke first, humming in contentment and pulling Oskar closer, before closing his eyes again and allowing himself to drift back into unconsciousness.


End file.
